


Finding Lost Brothers

by EspieImp



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Dark Angel
Genre: AU, BAMF John Blake, M/M, Seizures, kink meme fill, mentioned Human Experimentation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-07 00:03:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EspieImp/pseuds/EspieImp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Blake wasn't always John Blake, nor was he always an orphan. Once he had brothers and sisters, and was called Kavi. He was also a genetically engineered kid trained by the government to be super soldier who escape along with his brother's and sisters. Now he's been found by his creators and once more has to go on the run.<br/>Barsad, formally known as Vada, has also caught wind of a brother close by and wishes to be reunited. With Bane's permission of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on these two prompts:  
> http://tdkr-kink.livejournal.com/1025.html?thread=728833#t728833  
> http://tdkr-kink.livejournal.com/3076.html?thread=2828804#t2828804

Barsad was looking through a dossier of Gotham’s police department when the message came through. Every laptop, computer screen and television surrounding him went black before a new image appeared. Barsad recognise the blue and red boarders framing a pair of blue eyes. The words ‘Streaming Freedom’ running across the screen caused an eye brow to rise. 

Barsad wondered what made the fabled Eyes Only send a message as far as Gotham City. The League of Shadows had heard of him of course, even thought to hunt him down at one point, but as far as their Intel suggested, he only worked in and around the city of Seattle. Never this far across America.

Shaking his head Barsad turned to look back through the dossier, barely stopping to look at the page of a rookie who’s only distinguishing features where an ‘unusual tattoo’ and good looks if you glanced at his photo. Putting the page down he picked up another page.

As the video played through Barsad felt more then one person fall silent and turn towards him. Glancing up he looked towards his brothers, glad all the Gotham scum picked to work with them were elsewhere. Frowning slightly he turned to look back at the nearest screen only to freeze in shock.

Instead of blue eyes in the center of the screen a number of barcodes crawled across the screen. If he was any less of a man, let alone a member of the League, Barsad would have lifted a hand to rub against his own barcode. Instead he focused on the codes, quickly putting young childish faces to each number.

Distantly he wondered how Eyes Only could know about this, his first brothers and sisters. Did he work for Manticore? No… the lack of wrinkles around the blue eyes he saw showed that this was a young man, one much too young to know who these codes belonged too.

“…I repeat, X5-205, X5-210, X5-386, X5-471, X5-656, X5-701, your positions are compromised. Leave everything; you’re family, your friends, your homes. Gotham, New York, Washington nowhere is safe. They’re closing in. Run.”

The screen went black again before everything seemingly returned to normal. Barsad was frozen, the words and faces dancing in front of his eyes. One of them, his original brothers and sisters, were close, within the same city. Could even be standing above his very head watching the news. 

But…

The message echoed in his mind. That one word standing out. Compromised. Hunted down like some animal. Most likely to be killed. Barsad’s heart lurched in his chest.  
He wondered which little brother or sister was within Gotham. Tinga? Or baby faced Syl. Maybe it’s Kavi, the smallest member of their unit.

As he sat at his desk, dossier all but forgotten he felt more then heard Bane approach. As Bane sat beside him Barsad finally looked away from the laptop screen. Settling into the groaning chair Bane calmly picked up the dossier in silence. As the surrounding league members once more set about preparing for Gotham’s reckoning Barsad waited in silence.

“Where those…” Bane left the question hanging, waiting for his second to fill in the gaps.

“My original brothers and sisters. I fear they are now to be hunted down like cattle by Manticore,” Barsad faithfully answered.

“I notice he did not mention your code.” Bane had no need to ask the unspoken question.

“Col. Donald Lydecker was the man who shot me in the desert. He most likely assumes me dead, along with my brother Zack. X5-599 was our unit leader; he kept in contact with most if not all of us. After you and Talia saved me I lost contact with him.”

A silence settled between them. Barsad tried not to think back to that day he almost died and was thankful that Lydecker was such a careless man. If he had waited another minute, or even inspected what he thought was Barsad’s dead body, Lydecker would have easily noticed that Barsad was not as dead as he appeared. 

“You are conflicted,” Bane stated, placing the police dossier back on the table.

“Yes. They are still are my brothers and sisters. I can’t bear to think about one being so close and dead.” Barsad knew there was no point in lying, not to Bane of all people. Bane, who nursed him back to health and gave him a new life serving Talia. 

As Bane inspected him with his pale eyes Barsad wondered what went through his leaders head. After a few minutes of easy silence Bane once more stood up to leave. “Family is important. A child will do anything for a parent, who is to say a sibling is any different. Just because you are a member of the league does not necessary mean you have to abandon those you already called family.” That said Bane walked away into the sewer system.

Leaning back in his chair Barsad mussed over Bane’s words of wisdom and hidden permission. By a rough estimation Barsad would guess that about around ten million peopled lived within the city of Gotham. Crossing his arms he tried to think which of his original brothers and sisters would choose such a rotting place to live. Closing his eyes he thought back to impish smiles hidden in the darkness and a small hand holding his. 

Opening his eyes he smiled as he thought about a younger brother who believed hiding in plain sight was best.

 

-

 

John was in the middle of a day shift when he saw the hack. Standing next to his partner he felt his heart start to hammer. All around them a crowd was slowly disappearing, the multiple screen’s from an electrics store drawing them in once the hacker known as Eyes Only appeared.

“Can you believe this guy?”

“Huh?” turning away from the store John looked at Ross. The message replayed before his eyes. John couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. He’d been so careful.

“Just can’t believe some lonely guy in his mother’s basement become’s a world wide hacker. Shouldn’t one of the alphabet agencies get a hold on this guy?”

“I heard this hacker only focuses on Seattle, if the suits there can’t get a hold on him what does that tell you?” John replied turning away to finish buying a coffee. He took a minute to watch the way his hand started to shake. “They properly don’t have a full brain cell between them.”

Next to him Ross laughed, jostling his shoulder. “Don’t let them hear you say that.”

“If I ever see a suit in Gotham I’ll apologize,” John said airily. He tried to hide his twitching hand before Ross saw it.

“Hey Blake, you going to the party on the Wayne Manor grounds?” Ross asked out of nowhere.

“Of course, attendance is mandatory for all off duty officers. Even you have to come. You should bring your girlfriend,” John replied with a sly smirk. He waited for Ross to groan only to hear him chuckle instead.

“Come on; let’s go resupply that coffee running in your veins. Won’t want your blood count being higher then your caffeine,” John winched as Ross let the way. Trailing his partner he tried to remember if he had any more tryptophan hidden away in his apartment. Having a seizure before having to go on the run was not something John personally wanted to try. 

Looking at his watch he wondered if in six hours he’d even be able to go back to his apartment.

 

-

 

Six hours later John felt ready to bolt. Over the last few hours the hairs on the back of his neck had started to stand, the feeling of being watched driving him to distraction. Along with the tension of being watched John could feel the muscles in his body starting to twitch, a sure sign that a seizure was only hours away. For once he was grateful not to be the one driving their squad car. No doubt he would have crashed it or missed a red light. Thankfully Ross had said nothing about his lack of attention. Once he felt reasonably safe back in the police station John found himself finally relaxing in the locker room.

"So you got any plans for before the party?" Ross asked in the locker room, changing into a pair of shorts to use the basement gym. Beside him John laced up a pair of running shoes.

"Not sure, think I need to pick some stuff up to last until I can do some shopping," John replied.

"Ah the perils of living alone. Ever think about getting a roommate to do your shopping?"

"If you mean ‘get a live in girlfriend’ I'll have to pass. The horrors of sharing space with six other teenagers still haunt me," John smiled as he pulled a hoody over a police academy t-shirt. Carefully folding his uniform into an old rucksack John discreetly shook a small bottle of tablets. Inside it he could only hear four or five pills rattle.

Not good, John thought, knowing he’d need at least double that to stop the seizures. He wondered where the best place to get tryptophan was.

"I see; your loss mate. See you later?" Ross asked taping his wrists.

"Half seven sharp. Have fun getting beaten up." Hurling his rucksack over his shoulder John made his way out of the station, nodding at the occasional officer. Walking through the car park he wondered if there was anyway his pay could cover getting a car. Not that his pay was going to be a regular thing any more.

"Relax, shoulders down, even breathing. Act natural," he muttered under his breath heading for the closest railway station. As he walked he tried to see if anyone was paying him any attention, if anyone was following him.

After years of being able to walk around free hidden within the police force and academy he found the old habits quickly coming back to him. Instead of using the north bound tramline he settled for the south bound, willing to waste time and money to throw off any followers.

Grabbing his ticket John raced towards a tram with its doors closing. "Wait!" he shouted pushing his way through the crowd. With his enhanced hearing he could hear people still talking about the Eyes Only hack. "Thanks mate," he smiled at an older gentlemen with his hands in the door sensor. Moving away from the door he settled against a glass wall, knowing it'd be pointless to even try to look for a seat.

Casually bunching up his shoulders John made sure his barcode was safely hidden by the blue hood of his hoody. Once he was sure the barcode was as hidden as it could be he leaned back to start crowd watching; a seemingly simple habit that had saved his hide more then once. He watched as a group of teenage girls giggled at something on a phone, business men trying their hardest to read a broadsheet without getting in someone’s way. He watched as a young mother tried to control her three children and a couple trying to break up without creating a scene. Seeing no one looking his way he closed his eyes and focused on the noise around him.

"...he's cute..."

"...How could you?"

"...Will you behave?”

"...you got a light?"

"...There's a party down in warehouse six..."

"...You said you loved me..."

"...Target sighted..."

Over the countless conversations John clearly heard the words he was looking for. The voice was not one he recognised, but the flat tone was something he knew all to well. Pulling out a battered phone with no credit he pressed a button to light it up and brought it to his ear. His fingers were starting to shake badly.

"Guess Manticore was more prepared for this," he mussed aloud as he turned partially away from the other passengers. Seeing the tram line curve slightly he looked out the window to see which stop was approaching. It was a downtown stop, close to a row of cheap shops and fast food places. A good few miles from his apartment, but an easy way to reach the rooftop highway. And extra crowded this time of day. Suppressing a smile he waited until a large group gathered by the doors before making any move.

Timing was the important thing about losing yourself in a crowd. Along with making sure your clothes fitted in.

Which thankfully the cargo pants and hoody did. Mentally patting himself on the shoulder he slowly moved into the center of the crowd, slowly slouching his posture to become a board collage student, instead of a police officer or government experiment. As he passed through the doors he saw out of the corner of his eye four men in ill fitting suits approach where he used to be.

"A pincher move; gotta do better then that Manticore," he muttered under his breath walking down the stairs to reach the sidewalk. Just as the tram doors started to close he heard the men start to swear. They'd finally noticed he was no longer there. Smiling he picked up the pace, wanting to be a few streets away by the time any reinforcements came to the station.

Once he was at least a street away from the station John felt his entire body twitch.

“Shit,” he muttered moving to rest in the mouth of a vaguely clean ally. Opening his bag he quickly grabbed the bottle of pills and swallowed them all dry. “Now I really have to get some more.”

At once he could feel the medication start to take effect, the tremors quickly stopping for the time being.

Throwing the empty bottle away he fished through the bag until he came across a small prescription. He knew that going to a doctor was risky, but he was thankful that no one would really question a police officer closely. Having a real prescription on hand was worth any risk of a doctor finding out how not human he was.

Placing the prescription in his pouch John fished out his wallet and regulation handgun. Tucking the gun in the back of his trousers John stared forlornly at the open bag. Biting the inside of his cheek he closed the bag and threw it into an open dumpster. Shaking his head he pulled his hood up before walking back onto the sidewalk.

Luck seemed to still be on John side. The crowd surrounding him was young, mostly made up of college students and hipsters tossing their money down the drain on cheap clothing. Smiling to himself John followed a small group into a clothing store. Nodding his head every now and then to appear apart of the group John carefully disappeared within the store. Making sure to be seen by the cameras he carefully picked up a pair of logo’d tops before picking up some thin jackets. Moving between the isles he picked up and discarded a few more items before moving to wards the cashier. 

Smiling he paid in cash before walking out, bag in hand. Once outside he pulled a stolen jacket from out of his hoody and pulled it on, pulling his hood down as he walked away. Behind him a muscular security guard quickly approached a thin teenager unlucky enough to be wearing the same hoody as him.

“Sorry dude, but gotta do what I’ve gotta do,” John said walking away from the growing crowd of gawkers.


	2. Chapter 2

Unfortunately John’s luck didn’t hold out. It took three hours and five pharmacies until he finally came across some Tryptophan. Standing in a tiny store on the edge of the Narrows John tried to keep his body relaxed and not twitching like a junkie. The tiny hard faced Asian woman behind the counter glared up at him.

           

“Tt, everyone want Tryptophan now. Change your diet, stop taking pills.” Taking the prescription from his hands she turned away towards the shelves of tiny bottles and boxes.

           

John smiled politely as she walked away. “It is getting harder to get a hold of,” he replied hunching his shoulders.

           

“Be easier if people stop breaking in and taking it,” she shouted back at him.

           

“People have been breaking in? What’d they take?” he asked pulling his jacket closer.

           

“Only take Tryptophan, leave all the good stuff,” the tiny pharmacists replied.

           

John frowned as he thought over her words. Why would people steal Tryptophan? Out of the countless drugs found in any pharmacy, why target that? It’s not like it was addictive or a base for something more powerful. Just a simple protein to help with seizures, one people didn’t even really need a prescription to get hold of it either. John bit his lip as he thought over any possible reasons for the thefts.

           

Was Manticore behind it? Flushing him out by taking away all the Tryptophan in Gotham; but wouldn’t they buy it all instead of resorting to petty theft. Were they closer then John thought? Or maybe some other alphabet agency working for them?

           

Or was it one of the other escapees? Stocking up before laying low in the middle of nowhere like a caveman. Or maybe trying to send a warning he was too stupid to pay attention too. John tried to think back to the last few weeks, tried to remember if he’d heard anything about pharmacy break-ins.

           

Nothing came to mind.

           

“You lucky; only bottle in whole store.”

           

John quickly threw a charming smile at the grey haired woman as she placed a small bottle on the counter. Grabbing enough change from his wallet he handed over the money and pocketed the bottle. “Why was it missed?” he asked rolling his shoulders.

           

“Stupid assistant misplaced it, more come in five days.”

           

Smiling in thanks John left the shop making sure not to appear hurried. Turning into an alleyway he pulled out the bottle and chugged down a mouthful of pills dry. His right knee was jumping in place, a tremor working its way down his leg. Leaning against the wall he waited for it to pass. Looking around John could see how empty the alley was, something unusual for this time of day in such a rough neighborhood. Pulling up the blue hood he limped away from the street, trying to breath through his mouth so the stench wasn’t so overpowering.

           

It didn’t work, instead of smelling the trash he could taste it in the back of his throat. A thick coat on his tongue that made him want to gag. Looking around he tried to find any sign of people but aside from fresh trash and needles he could have been in a ghost town.

           

“Where is everyone?” he wondered aloud looking up to see closed curtains in every window. Slowly the tiny hairs on the back of his neck started to stand up. Quickly looking around for a hiding place John saw a closed fire exit for a block of flats. Taking a running leap he clasped the rusty handrail and pulled himself up. Feeling the rusted structure wobble under his sudden weight he raced up towards the rooftop, happy that his old beaten looking running shoes made little noise.

           

Reaching the top within minutes John hurled himself up onto the rooftop and quickly looked down six stories to look into the alley. In the three minutes it’d taken him to get on the roof nothing had changed. The piles of trash remained where they were and the alley was deserted. Quickly looking down John slowly made his way towards the mouth of the alley, wondering if maybe there was something happening in one of the shops.

           

Looking down onto the street John felt his mouth go dry. There, parked carefully, was one of his worse nightmares. The car stood out for many reasons. Huge, black, glossy and new looking, John found himself taking in every detail. A Chevrolet Suburban, most likely eleventh generation, not a speck of dirt or rust. A run of the mill government favorite. 

No one in the Narrows could afford a car like that, let alone keep it looking so well. It was practically asking to be stolen. 

Crouching down John wished he had cross the street before dashing down an ally. Then he’d at least have a chance of looking into the pharmacy below to see if or how many suits there were. Instead he was crouching where anyone could just look up and see him, praying for the best.

 

“Should have known this would happen,” John muttered aloud. “Should’ve just waited it out in a sewer or something.”

 

After ten minutes slowly passed John heard a door below open, a high pitched voiced swearing in Chinese as four suits stepped out. Three of the suits where built like a brick shithouse, while the fourth a tiny man in comparison was clearly the brains of the outfit.

 

“He can’t have gone far; the seizures must be bad if he risked seeing a doctor about them. Spread out, check every cranny,” the other three nodded at the weedy looking man before splitting into twos.

 

“What about the roofs?” a dark skinned suit asked. John wondered how someone’s voice could get so low.

 

The tiny man seemed to frown or glare at the other man before replying. “The X-5’s are known for their preference of high spaces. I don’t care what routes you take, make sure to check them. Anything else you need explained to you?” he asked shapely. The three other suits shook their heads and spread out.

 

“Well shit,” John said, nails digging into his legs. “This is not good.”

 

The prescription only said John Blake, by now they defiantly knew what name he went by. John knew he’d have to go by one of his other names. “Really, how common is the name Robin anyway?” he asked checking how close one of the teams were. The weedy looking man and a bald Caucasian suit were slowly making their way down his ally.

 

“That route’s a no,” John muttered before silently running across the rooftop. Keeping parallel to the road he leaped across a gap onto a lower roof, quickly changing direction to head farther into the Narrows.

 

His heart was racing. Blood pumping through his veins. Adrenalin rushing until he started to feel high off it. He knew if anyone was to see him all they’d see was a blur as he legs moved faster then the eye could process. Flying across the top of the Narrows John wondered if this was how Batman used to feel. Free and powerful. Untouchable almost.

 

Having reached the heart of the Narrows John jumped down onto the street, landing in a cat-like crouch. Looking around he saw nothing more then trash blowing in the wind and more closed windows. “Looks like a freaking ghost town,” John muttered slowly standing up.

 

Leaning against an apartment block wall John closed his eyes and bowed his head. A violent tremor rocked his entire body. Taking a deep breath he tried to listen for anyone close by.

 

There was no sound from any of the apartments. No music playing or people screaming. He couldn’t hear any cars or bikes from the road or rats in the trash.

 

“What is going on here?” he wondered as he dragged his body to sit on the ground. Taking more deep breathes John felt more tremors rack his body, small almost unnoticeable ones. “Something… something big must be happening…” his voice seemed to almost echo in the silence of the Narrows. As he sat among the trash John couldn’t help but wonder how no one could have noticed this. The Narrows were notorious, even with the loss of Batman and the Harvey Dent Act, no one was willing to do more then keep a loss eye on the place. But someone must have noticed it become a ghost town within Gotham.

 

Biting through his lip in the aftershock of a particularly bad tremor John heard the sound of footsteps trying to be quite. It was hardly a noticeable sound, but years of training and conditioning, along with enhanced hearing, made the quietest sounds seem like a gun shot.

 

“Don’t they ever give up?” John muttered looking for a new hiding space. As much as he burned to fight his pursuers John knew he had no chance. He could not even tell how close they truly were. With a quick glace he saw his only option.

 

“Guess it’s time to see if Gotham’s sewers have those man sized alligators,” he said before lifting a manhole cover.


	3. Chapter 3

Gotham’s sewers were surprisingly clean. Sure, the smell of fences and urine were thick on the air making it rank, but there was no trash litter or rodents in abundance. It was… almost nice if you just focused on the distance sound of running water. John quickly decided that there worst places he could hide out.

            The evenly spaced out lights gave the place a nice touch.

            Looking up at the manhole cover John quickly decided that moving away from it would be a good idea. The dust swept to the sides of the tunnels clearly showed that this place was in regular use. And he had no plan on running into whichever group thought a sewer base was a brilliant idea.

            “Properly a group of nutters,” he said pulling himself up onto shaking legs. Using the tunnel wall for support he picked a random direction, hoping it was a less used area. Within minutes of starting his slow trek John came across a small tunnel shooting off into a bricked off dead end. There was no light leaving it blanketed in darkness. Beneath his hands the bricks were cold and rough, bare of the algae and slime that the tunnel walls had collected over the years. The mortar was hard against his nails, not a flake falling off.

            “Huh, this is new,” John said to himself. “When did the city maintenance do this?” he wondered feeling a harsh tremor rock his rock. Biting his lower lip he tried not to make a sound and collapsed against the wall.

            Taking a deep breath through his nose he relaxed every muscle in his body. Closing his eyes he dragged his body away from the wall and let go of his strict control. He’d hate himself afterwards but he was just too tired to fight it anymore.

 

Bane had gathered some of the members of the League for a discussion when a runner was brought before them. The runner was a child, not even into double digits yet but with the eyes of a harden man in the dirty face of an orphan. Another of countless signs of Gotham’s failures.

            “Yes?” Bane asked mildly after watching the dirty child quiver in mixed fear and excitement.

            “There’s an intruder in the sewers, by the Narrow’s drop off point. Some of the older boys think it’s a cop. Others say he’s another druggie…” the pale skinned boy rubbed at his runny nose, his voice almost squeaky in his excitement.

            Bane nodded his head towards the boy, watching as the League member who brought him forward lead him away. Bane spared no words to his faithful second; Barsad merely nodded his head in understanding and collected two of the many Gotham scum loitering around for new orders.

            The two young thugs followed Barsad without a word, their gloved hands flexing. No doubt hoping for a fight against this intruder, Barsad mussed. Navigating the sewer maze was easy work for Barsad and merely ten minutes later he was standing beside an open drain seeping out into the waters around Gotham. Taking a chance to breath in fresh air he turned to make his way towards the first manhole, quickly checking any close tunnels on his way.

            Behind him neither of the thugs made a sound, their hearts were racing and Barsad made sure not to use his enhanced senses to find their prey. It’d do not good for Gotham’s scum to believe he was anything more than human.

            “How much longer this gonna take?” the younger thug asked his companion as the half hour mark passed.

            “Dunno, maybe we got turned about again?” the bigger one suggested.

            Barsad tried not to snort at their attempt to be unheard.

            “Na mate, those guys meant to be good. Donny said they like ninja’s or something. Doubt ninja get lost.”

            “I thought ninja only lived in Japan?” the second one asked after a few minutes of silence.

            “Dumbass, travelling’s no issue for ninja, how else could they stay in work? Japan ain't that big.”

            Before the bigger, clearly dumber thug could ask another question Barsad turned to look at them. “We’re close. Be ready.”

            Turning away from them he lead the way towards a smaller blocked up tunnel ready for detonation. In the thin layer of dirt that covered everything under Gotham, Barsad could make out fresh footprints and scuff marks. Clearly whoever came here was not paying attention to what he was doing. Taking a discrete sniff of the air Barsad decided he could not smell any fresh blood.

            “He’s not injured,” he informed the other two.

            “Then why’d he come down here?”

            Barsad speared a brief glance at the shaved thug.

            “Maybe he’s having a bad trip?” his companion said.

            “He must be a dumbass coming down for to get high. Loads a good places in the Narrows or the park.”

            Without waiting for the other two to catch up, Barsad turned down into the bricked off tunnel. Within seconds his eyes adjusted to the lack of light and Barsad frown at the scene before him.

            The sight of someone having a seizure always left Barsad feeling like a small child again, unable to understand why his brothers where acting so strange and being taken away. The lack of motor control and full body spams where something he’d thankfully never experienced or seen again outside of Manticore. Watching this man twitch and drool onto the dirt caused a small feeling of pity to swell inside him. For a mere second the man was replaced by a small girl, dark skinned and shaved head crying on her bed. Hopeless and scared.

            “What’s he doing?” the dumb thug asked once they’d seen the intruder.

            “He’s having a fit. What do we do with him?”

            Both thugs turned to him and Barsad wondered just what they could do. He posed no risk to them or Talia’s goal. But just leaving him there could leave repercussions. The chance of him seeing anything yet was slim, but who knew what could happen once he recovered. Watching as the blue hoody became covered in grime he made up his mind.

            “Pick him up, we’ll take him back and lock him in a room.”

            Without a word both thugs moved to pick up the unfortunate man, neither caring about the film of dust and dirt now covering their hands. The young man did nothing more than let out a pained groan as they jostled him. As they lifted him the man’s head rolled forward, his face hidden by his dirty hair.

            “I thought people shat themselves having fits,” the dumb thug said as Barsad led the way back to the base of operations.

            “Well clearly he knew he was gonna have one and went for a dump before,” the other replied in a snide voice.

            “Then why’d he come down here?”

            Marching in front of the pair Barsad found himself asking the same question.


	4. Chapter 4

Seizures affect everyone differently, John knew this at the most basic of levels. But the thing about being a transgenic was that he never went through the same thing a normal person did. He never experienced a black out, or loss of vision. His hearing remained as perfect as always. If anything during a seizure he was more aware.

            More aware of where he was. Of how vulnerable he was. Of what could happen to him in such a state. And he was most definitely aware of what a mess he was becoming.

            But although he could hear the approach of his new capturers he knew more than anything how little he could do to stop them. As they talked in front of him he could feel the drool seeping out of his mouth and down his cheek. He could feel how his too long hair was rubbing into the dust and dirt, grounding it in. John cursed at the fact he was meant to have it cut today, cut short and neat ready for the Wayne party tonight. He could easily imagine the state of his hoody and stolen jacket.

            If anything he’d fit right with the trio of thugs standing in front of him.

            As two of them moved forward to pick him up John tried to swear, tried to struggle as they lifted him with ease. All his effort received was a groan and a hard twitch. Within his mind he cursed at how pathetic he was.

            An escaped government super solider brought down by a chemical imbalance in the brain.

            It must be some sort of cosmic joke. Trying to keep his eyes open John watched as his unknown capturers dragged him farther and farther into the sewers. The bland tunnels had no markers and as far as John could tell they were walking in circles. Round and round underground like a merry-go-round; John couldn’t help letting out a half groan half chuckle at the thought.

            Slowly they passed tunnels where John could hear more than just rushing water. Voices speaking different languages drifted down tunnels and booted feet echoed under the thundering water. Seeing more and more crates lining the tunnels John wondered if there was an underground city in the sewers. The Narrows were practically abandoned, Gotham’s unwanted and deprived had to have vanished somewhere.

            Keeping his head lowered John watched as he was dragged out into a round room with many different tunnels leading off. The room was packed with teenagers shifting and opening crates. John bit his lip as he watched a boy, barely looking fifteen, gently handle a large AK and adding it to a pile. Standing by a tunnel entrance John could see a bearded man, much older then everyone in the room, standing guard. A supervisor? John wondered.

            The guard nodded as their group passed him, walking down another featureless bright tunnel and passed a series of doors. The obvious leader of the little group opened a seemingly random door and stood by as the thugs dumped John’s twitching body onto a camping bed. John groaned as he landed face first, his shaking hands trapped beneath his body. Within his own head he prayed that his barcode was still hidden by his hoodie.

            Without a word the two thugs walked out of the cell, leaving John and their leader alone.

 

Throughout the walk towards the holding cells Barsad had quietly mussed over questions about their unexpected guest. Although biased he could only think of one reason for someone to hide in a sewer; especially within the infamous Narrows of Gotham. There was only one reason for someone to choose the sewer system over say, a home, or a clinic.

            Their guest was hiding from someone. Or some ones.

            Looking down at the twitching body Barsad took a few silent until he was looming over the young man. Without a sound he gently pulled away the hood of his jumper and stared at the back of the man’s neck. Barsad couldn’t name or pinpoint what made him inspect the guest’s neck, but as he stared down at the barcode he felt the corners of his lips lift slightly.

            He couldn’t believe how easy it was to find him, his dear brother Kavi. He thought he’d have to spend months trawling through Gotham after the reckoning. But no, Kavi had basically walked onto his lap. Barsad speared a thought to wonder how Bane would take this new information.

            Would his brother, his leader, be happy that he’d found the brother he’d thought he’d lost years ago. Would Bane be happy that he’d have no distraction during the purge? Or how their Sister, the beautiful Talia would react to the unexpected news.

            Taking another long glance at the black lines decorating Kavi’s neck Barsad gently turned his baby brother’s head, wanting nothing more than to see how time had treated him. Crouching down Barsad took in the closed eyes, the drawn eyebrows and the pain expression. Having expected a pain expression he looked passed it and froze as he took in Kavi’s features.

            He’d seen that face before. The slightly prominent chin, thin lips; a handsome face that could most likely blend into a crowd or stand out if Kavi wanted to. Thinking back to where he’d seen Kavi’s face before Barsad felt like cursing as he walked out of the cell.

            ‘Distinctive tattoo,’ the police file said. He’d even thought that the officer was handsome in an offhanded way. A way Manticore had designed all the X5 units to be. Barsad wondered how he could have been so blind.

            As he made his way towards the makeshift command center Barsad tried to keep the cool appearance he was known for. Unfortunately many of the League members he passed were able to see through his mask. Some looked at him with concern while other’s merely raised an eyebrow. The thugs handpicked from the Narrows missed all signs of the members’ silent communication.

            “You seem troubled brother. I trust everything went well with our sudden visitor?” even with the faint echo caused by the mask Bane’s voice was sudden enough that Barsad flinched.

            “Yes Bane,” Barsad answered before picking up the file belonging to one Robin John Blake. Walking over towards one of the many computers he dumped the file before one of the many League members hacking their way through different government sites. “Find and delete anything to do with this man.”  The scared man nodded his contest after a quick glace towards Bane.

            Bane said nothing at Barsad’s unusual actions, merely holding onto his back brace as Barsad settled his mind enough to explain. The room was full of only League members, Bane trusted Barsad to say nothing but truth around their brothers and sisters.

            “He is my brother.”


End file.
